Postcards Book 1
[[Postcards | Postcards]] (Book 1) :- by Fizzlepocket ((This is the written record of one Fizzlepocket James Rodriguez Fernando Martinez Ricardo Tweek The II recording the events leading up to and continuing throughout his temporary banishment from Stormwind in the hellhole that is known to many as Lakeshire. For the sake of the reader, the first few are very heavy on exposition trying to explain this horribly convulted situation on how Fizzle got to here and how he's doing. Hopefully we'll see Fizzle unleash some mayhem in Lakeshire a good number of times before it's all said and done...)) Glimmerflint From Fizzlepocket https://archive.is/20131014125921/img306.imageshack.us/img306/4786/postcard16qn.jpg Glimmerflint, You know when you told me that you'd love me no matter what, even if we were separated by the breadth of The Great Sea for months or even years if it came down to it? When you told me that you'd love me, no matter how grim the scenario and regardless of both my physical and mental well being? When you told me that there is nothing I could say or do that could ever make you stop loving me? I sure hope so because I can't remember for the life of me if it was YOU who said it or if it was that one dwarf that I was involved with, with the breasts and that rump and the facial hair a few years back... Or maybe it was that goblin back in the Shimmering Flats... Or maybe Trixie Quicksilver. Im sure you know Trixie! She's that engineering trainer in Ironforge? White haired, weird fascination with musical theater, has a thing for feet? Well, regardless, I'm going to ASSUME it was you, since I remember there being lots and lots and LOTS of sex afterwards (Which was phenomenal) and since I assume it was you, then its time to put your money where your mouth is, because I got quite the story to tell you. If you were NOT the one who told me that, which Im almost positively sure you WERE, I am entirely prepared to completely and vehemently deny any existence of this postcard. Suppose I'll need a bit more room... Gonna have to get another postcard... (Of course, this isnt the case as a gnome's handwriting in gnomish is so amazingly small, sometimes its necessary for recipients to have to use magnifying goggles in order to even make it all out. Fizzle is no exception, as half of the postcard is still blank even after all this text. Fizzle, subtle as he is, decides to take up as much room as possible with his signature which looks much akin to a massive collection of scribbles and chicken scratch) With Love and More to Come, Fizzlepocket James Rodriguez Fernando Martinez Ricardo Tweek The Second. Glimmerflint from Fizzlepocket https://archive.is/20131014130009/img201.imageshack.us/img201/8966/postcard29yb.jpg Glimmerflint, I'm sure you've been worried as to my exact whereabouts the past few... weeks, but I assure you that I am fine and that I'm in fact rather well taken care of at the moment of this writing. The reason for my extensive (and excessive) absence lies entirely due to circumstances, conditions, and situations entirely beyond my grasp. Perhaps I should start at the beginning to help give you an idea of just what is going on... It all started one night in Knockers. I was locking up after having fed my sweet angel of a daughter... my sweet angel of a daughter... that girl that's suing me... what's her name. Ellipse! There we go! Anyway, as I was closing up I was attacked not by armed thugs, brutal assailants, sneaking assassins or anything of the sort, but rather I was ambushed by a massive pack of wild, malicious, rabid imps! I gave 'em Hell, I did! Blew hundreds of the smarmy bastards back where they came from and all! But as the hours waged on and their numbers kept growing higher and higher, things eventually began turning sour for me. Before I knew it, I was both cornered and trapped! I remember falling down the stairs into the basement and looking up to see this gargantuan mass of the little bastards gather around the top landing just shrieking, cackling and all around carrying on as they began to collectively conjure an even more gargantuan fire ball to do me in. And that's when things get foggy. The next thing I know, I wake up in a dark alleyway alongside the Knockers building but I didn't have control of my body as fantastic as it may sound! Instead, it seemed that I was nothing more than a bit of consciousness floating around, a voice within my own head I suppose. Apparently someone else had complete control over my body... or for what I knew it was, anyway. My once rugged beard, my well toned arms and legs, my sharp facial features had all but vanished, and I had breasts, hips, and an ass that I supposed were a fair trade (They were quite nice). I don't think I need to spell out what exactly happened to me, and for the sake of the space I can afford on this post card, I won't. This new personality that had possessed me referred to herself as Riddle, and for what it's worth, made my life nothing short of miserable for the week that she inhabited my person. By harnessing my incredible mental capabilities and over time I was able to regain control of my body, eventually shoving Riddle aside entirely and possibly allow me to regain my former, much more masculine, muscular and handsome self. Well, I dont really know how or WHY that happened, or how I got back to how I was. Kinda miss the breasts though... So where am I now? How did I get there? How in the hell is this all relevant to my current situation? Well, Ill tell you in the next postcard seeing as I have nowhere else to write... With Love, Fizzlepocket. Glimmerflint From Fizzlepocket http://img357.imageshack.us/img357/9527/postcard33yl.jpg Glimmerflint, As soon as I had freed myself from that pest Riddle and got my chiseled, near god-like physique back (Though I'm sad to report that my whiskers are still too short in comparison to that glorious face of hair you fell in love with) I went out in search of you, hoping that I could catch you well... anywhere. I hit all of the libraries in the city; I went to the Pig and Whistle hoping to catch you enjoying a Paedus (And while I was there, ordered a pair for the two of us just in case). I went to the well in the Mage District, the Blue Recluse, I headed over to Pyrotechnics since I know how much you love good fireworks (Though those punks have nothing on me, I'm afraid), I ran the entire length of the Canals just hoping to catch a glimpse of you, and I even tore through almost every store that I've known you to frequent on occasion and THEN some. You DO frequent the Dungeon, right? Anyway, I was quickly growing frustrated, exasperated, tired and famished. I'd been searching for a good four hours up to that point! The Paeduses had long since been petrified in its own lard and the fries 'n rings I had also picked up had solidified into a single clump of grease and breadcrumbs. Upset that I couldn't find you despite my efforts, I made my way over to the Moonwell in the Park as a last attempt before I gave up and tried to salvage whatever I could from my meal. That's when I saw him. Calithos. He was lurking near the moonwell looking unusually uppity and suspicious (Or at least more unusual and uppity and suspicious than usual) frequently casting a look over his shoulder towards the entry way of the Park every so often. That is, until he finally noticed me. All at once, his face became flushed, his once relatively calm and confident visage seemed to become distorted as a look of unmistakable horror swept over his face. For a moment he stayed absolutely still watching me with those fearful eyes... "... Evening Calithos." "AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! OH MY GOD! HEEEEEEEELP~!" With that, he ran off screaming and raising all sorts of hell along the way. It wasn't until later after I had cornered him I found out why he bolted like he did. The bastard confessed to stealing a keg of very valuable, very much processed, very refined gunpowder from me just because he thought I was dead! Can you believe that?! I'm gone for a week and I'm DEAD! THEN! AND THEN! He had the gall to try to justify his own actions as a way to get rid of Magistrate Sirithil once and for all, desperately trying to convince me it's a GOOD thing he stole from me! And nobody steals from Fizzlepocket James Rodriguez Fernando Martinez Ricardo Tweek the II! But I'm a gentleman, I've got a good head on my shoulders after all! So I did what any rational gnome like myself would do. For five days and five nights, I hunted him relentlessly through the streets of Stormwind. For those five days and five nights, the city sounded like a war zone in-between the screams, the gunfire, and the explosions. Mechanical Squirrels, Mechanical Yetis and most recently, Mechanical Dragonlings had been deployed combing the streets and skies for that pilferer, programmed to brutally kill him and bring me back the corpse, or whatever limbs, digits, or torso they could salvage once theyve done the dirty deed. We've fought and brawled mano a mano several times throughout all this and... eventually the Hounds took notice. Calithos was fleeing, I was hunting Calithos and in turn the Hounds began hunting me. ME! Can you believe that?! I'm only the victim in all this and they go ahead and pursue ME while Calithos gets off free as a bird! What kind of sick, perverse justice is that, I ask you?! As it was, The Hounds finally apprehended me and held me in their cell for about two days as they continued their investigation concerning this entire "Killing Calithos" ordeal... not to mention the property damage, various assault charges against Hounds and Civilians, Illegal this and that... nothing at all worth worrying about, of course! After a few days of letting me stew without even allowing me to write a single letter to you or anyone alerting them to my situation, they offered me an ultimatum. Either I could go for their plea bargain which involved me taking a caning and be banished from Stormwind for a month, or I could wait for a bail hearing by Poynard in which case the Hounds would argue against allowing me bail, and favorably, leaving me to rot in the Stockades or... their basement, whatever until my trial. Naturally, I took the plea bargain after considering my options. The moment I uttered my decision I was immediately escorted out to the Tree of Sorrows and beaten horrifically! I didnt even have the option to get any belongings or to even get a chance to say farewell to anyone... But, as I've said, ever since I've been kicked out I'm exceptionally well cared for. Sirithil, in an attempt to show her gratitude in possibly preventing Calithos from finishing his scheme (And finishing her off I suppose), has provided me with a room at the inn for the duration of my punishment that I've already converted into an acceptable workshop for my gadgets and research, though it's nothing quite like home... Glimmerflint, I apologize so much for not being able to reach you sooner and I hope you're not THAT worried about me. I can't even begin to tell you just how much I've missed you over these trying weeks. I hope you'll come visit me soon seeing as how I can't, or at the very least reply to my postcards. It's going to be a very long month in Lakeshire, but if you were to at least reply, it'd make this ordeal a whole lot more tolerable for me. With all my love, Fizzlepocket. https://archive.is/20131014125918/img223.imageshack.us/img223/6490/withlove2cm.jpg P.S. If you see them, could you reset the mechanical yetis, squirrels and dragons' home point from Knockers to the Lakeshire Inn? I've shown you how to do it with your squirrel and the concept's the same with my devices. Granted, the Dragonlings won't be heading back in for another two weeks to up to a month anyway... or whenever they kill Calithos, whatever comes first. P.P.S. If you see Calithos in the streets, feel free to take a shot at him. If the Hounds catch them, tell them you're working for Sirithil. P.P.P.S. Love you! P.P.P.P.S. Please send a paedus too! P.P.P.P.P.S. Extra ranch with onion rings, you know how I like it. June From Fizzlepocket (The following is not a postcard addressed to Glimmerflint, or even a postcard. Rather, it's a letter addressed to... Oh god. June.) My sweetest June! I hope you are doing well in Stormwind! After all, it's only due to your incompetence that I've been banished from the city and sent to rot in Lakeshire! Incompetence? What could I possibly mean by such a strong word like that?! We had only rehearsed for this moment for MONTHS! Did you forget the plan?! If you were to get captured by the Hounds, the plan would call for me to assault the place of your holding with an armada of mechanical sheep and a massive arsenal that'd rival that of the entire Stormwind Armory! YOUR plan meanwhile was just to get STINKY DRUNK on RUM, bring your HACKSAW and then run around just doing your thing, leaving nothing but a trail of amputated corpses in your wake and looking OH SO CUTE when you're busy maiming and beating people with the severed arms of their comrades! WHAT HAPPENS?! You come strolling in through the front door sober (!), minus a hacksaw (!) and you try to BRIBE the guard holding me into releasing me. Then, when denied and arrested for bribery, you CRACKED under the pressure, essentially gave me a big ol !&$% YOU TWEEK! And abandoned me! I especially liked the part when, not only did you get released with a slap on the wrist and a meager 50 silver lighter than when you came in, you DONATED a rather nice sum of money to Dugald directly! And it wasn't even a bribe, it was a TAX DEDUCTABLE DONATION! I really have something to ask you, June. It's real simple. Its real straight to the point. I think you'll have NO PROBLEMS answering me when I ask you... What. The. HELL!? Did your new hubby knock you up so hard that you can't even think straight anymore?! When you said "I Do" did your common sense and logic completely abandon you in favor of wild rough church approved copulation and a life of luxury and elegance?! I'm stuck in LAKESHIRE because YOU failed me, June! YOU FAILED ME. Because of your blatant incompetence I'm in the middle of this tourist trap Hell where the sun blazes down on me for all hours of the day, these damn children, those ungodly birds NEVER shut up, where nothing ever happens and the most intellectually stimulating conversation I've had in the past two days consisted of nothing more than "Dude LOL!" Worse of all, it's a DRY TOWN JUNE. I'm sure those words might just register in that mind of yours! A DRY TOWN. I can't even get drunk here! I have to endure this cesspool, this hellhole all sober! Long letter short, June, darlin', sweetie... You're DEAD TO ME, June! I've been abandoned, I've been betrayed, and I've... I've... GAH! You better hope I don't see you anytime soon because I can not guarantee I'll be able to control my boiling, seething rage when I do! !&$% you, June! We're through! This entire thing is through! Everything is through! !&$% you! ........... With love, Fizzlepocket. ((OOC Edit: Sorry, made a new post instead of editting... my bad.)) Frelle From Mr. Fizzlepocket ((Another letter, another recipient..)) Frelle, Yeah, yeah, sorry about not being able to attend your wedding and all, legal troubles. Anyway, I need you to go ahead and do me a favor. It's nothing too big or demanding, really, and I'll be sure to compensate you once I can return to Stormwind. First of all, I need you to go into Knockers and head down into the basement. There, you should see a little door near the stairwell to the right. Go in there (It should be open) and turn left immediately upon doing so. First, you got to tap the third stone from the left above the garbage bin which should turn off the security system in my cellar... PLEASE remember to turn off the security system before continuing. I don't want to have to clean up your remains when I get back in a month. Now look down. You see it? There should be a trapdoor in the corner of the room behind the hammock and under a decade or so of burned up.... adult magazines. Anyway, lift it open up and head down. You'll need some sort of light or something, and I hope you aren't too afraid of spiders... or stray imps or anything. Moving along, keep on going until you reach a dead end and tap the lower left brick with your right foot. If you did this wrong, you should be... well... dead. But! I have faith that you can follow such simple directions! If you're not dead (Which Im certain you wont be), the wall should push in and swing out into my workshop. Now hence the reason why I wrote you. I need you to send out a few... gadgets, items and explosives towards my current residence in Lakeshire. The list is on the back of this paper. (An address follows) Thanks in advance! Sincerely, Mr. Fizzlepocket James Rodriguez Fernando Martinez Ricardo Tweek the II ((On the other side)) *Four crates of Goblin Land Mines (On a COMPLETELY unrelated note, I wouldn't attend Story Night this week, Frelle) *One Goblin Dragon Gun *One Gnomish Shrink Ray *One Gnomish Death Ray *One Gnomish Net-O-Matic *Three kegs of gunpowder *Four rifles and one Quadruple Barrel Shotgun with proper ammunition... any four will do. *One Grenade Launcher with a crate of each: Acid, Fire and Original Flavor Grenade Rounds. *Any and All Mechanical Battle Chickens, Mechanical Squirrels, Dragonlings, Yetis, Alarm-O-Bots, Lifelike Mechanical Toads, Pet Bomblings, Explosive Sheep and Ol Smokeys opened, unopened or otherwise. (I want to have something ready for Calithos when I get back...) *One Gnomish Cloaking Device *One Universal Remote *One Barrel of each of the following: Green, Red, and Blue Fireworks of the Small, Medium, Clustered, Large, and Large Clustered Varieties, Goblin Rocket Fuel and Dense Blasting Powder. *One Firework Cluster Launcher and Firework Launcher *One Deepdive Helmet *One Goblin Rocket Helmet *One Discombobulator Ray *Twenty of each of the following: Dark Iron Bombs, Thorium Grenades, Arcane Bombs, EZ-Thro Dynamite II, Hi-Explosive Bombs, Mithril Frag Bombs and Solid Dynamite. *One Goblin Bomb Dispenser *One Pair of Goblin Rocket Boots Size 8s *One Ornate Spyglass *One Parachute Cloak *And 20 Aquadynamic Fish Attractors. Fizzlebum From June Dear Fizzlebum, Your charming letter left me quite surprised and I think we need to get some facts straight. First of all, "a hacksaw"? "A HACKSAW"?! It is THE hacksaw, Fizzle. And THE hacksaw has a name. Which is Borris. Please show Borris a bit more respect in the future. As to the rest of your letter, I have no idea what you're talking about and surely you've gone mad from your convalescence in Lakeshire. While it's true that I've not been myself for the past week or so, and I mean that more literally than I want to discuss right now, I would never forget our arrangement, and all that behavior sounds so intolerably unlike me that I cannot help but believe your suffering delusions. Thus, out of pity, I will be sending you a care package, despite your ranting. Love, June. The care package is a crate stuffed with bottle after bottle of rum. And a pack of biscuits. June From F A simple note is scrawled onto one of the rum bottle labels, addressed and stamped to June.) June, I will not accept your "apology," but I'll keep the liquor. F. Glimmerflint From Fizzlepocket https://archive.is/20131014125957/img264.imageshack.us/img264/8845/postcard40mi.jpg Glimmerflint, Is it so wrong for me to try to give a helping hand to those in need? To grant the deaf, the dumb, the reeking and the stupid aid when they truly need it? To lend to them my brilliant mind and unorthodox methods to try to enlighten these ignorant masses, that's all I want to do! But instead of thanking me, building several shrines in my honor and sacrificing oh so many sweet, sweet virgins in my name when I show them the way, they call me a "Monster" for it and lock me up in my Inn Room! Maybe such brilliance like my own is just... wasted on these simpletons. I mean, think about it. Lakeshire has had a serious problem with boars for as long as I've known it. These boars rip up the vegetation in these parts, they steal food from the gardens near town, they charge at the children if those poor, sweet, innocent souls get too close, they're known to sniff, poke, and defecate on the graves. Quite simply, they are (and were) a horrible nuisance that had to be handled years ago and quite frankly, the powers that be in Lakeshire were simply ignoring the problem for all this time! So I did what any normal, enlightened, sane person with a firm understanding of animal psychology, engineering, and physics could do! I buried over 50 goblin land mines at random throughout the southern bank near Lakeshire. It just kinda started out with one in this field, one near the stump, one along the water, maybe a... dozen or two in the cemetery, several more along the Story Night fire pit out there, a few underneath bowls of sweet delectable treats marked "FREE CANDY," a couple along the road... in the road... in the stables... On the horses... .... In a horse.... Sometimes I just feel like nobody in this town understands me, Glimmer. I mean, I had NOTHING but good (Though undefined) intentions throughout all this! I even gave them a hell of a deal when all was said and done! I only charged them 80% of what I usually do! I was pratically GIVING my services away! Yet somehow, lo and behold I'm a monster! Look at them, running around out there using dogs to try to sniff them out! And... Ooo. There goes another dog. You know, you'd think someone would call THEM monsters for trying to blow up dogs off my land mines! Someone oughta lock THEM u.... Huh. Thats the third corpse to hit my window today. Anyw- ... And there's that dog... ... Heh. Anyway, I suppose they can't keep me locked up forever though. While we're on the subject of locking things up and the act of blowing crap up, which DIRECTLY leads into swarms of ravenous zombies seeking flesh and brains... I heard through the grap.evine that there's some sort of "Invasion" going on in Stormwind. Well, it's not so much being a grap.evine as it is "No one shutting the hell up about it." The town's just been packed with a lot of refugees lately. Thankfully I got my room reserved and paid off like I did before hand. You know, Glimmer, I think now, considering the extreme circumstances and such, it would be a pretty good time to cash in your vacation time and, well, you know, just drop by for like... a week. Or three. Or, yeah. I mean, I know I'm supposed to be kept under lock and key by strict order of Magistrate "Stick Up His Ass" Solomon, but it's not like I'm forbidden visitors, and for that matter, it's not like we have to leave the room once ya get here, if you catch my drift. You do catch it, dont you? Heres hoping you will, and have, and such, Fizzlepocket Calithos Blyde From Fizzlepocket Dear Mr. Blyde, I really have to tell you, when I first began hunting you mercilessly throughout the streets of Stormwind, I never imagined that it would escalate to a point where I would have been arrested and banished to Lakeshire. Not even in a thousand years did I think that such a simple plot to murder someone in such a horrific fashion who wronged me would have such consequences. Ever since I arrived here in this small, quaint, little town I've had plenty of time to just sit down and think about this; to calm down; to reflect on my actions and to find a solution to solve this problem of ours. After all, we're civilized gentlemen, aren't we? We're educated, respectable men who can settle such a meager dispute in a way that everyone is satisfied, aren't we? We surely aren't children who can't come to a common agreement over who took whose toys, are we? After several, no, many days of intense deliberation on the matter I began to work on what I felt would make everything better for everyone involved. Oh! Don't think I'm apologizing, and for that matter, don't even begin thinking that since I'm prohibited of coming within 100 yards of the city's walls that you're safe from me! Oh-ho-ho-NO! I am delighted to inform you that the only thing I've been able to do with all the time I've been forced to spend in this horrible, god-awful hell-hole is devise new ways to kill you without interruption or distraction! Not directly of course, thanks to that pesky little banishment thing. The conclusion I reached? I decided for the both of us the best way to handle our problem (Well, your problem now) is to, quite simply, expand upon my current efforts that have plagued your sorry ass for the past week and a half or so. Right now, I have with me 31 mechanical squirrels (Which Ive modified with a much tougher chasis to be able to endure any abuse you can throw its way), 27 battle chickens, a new squadron of dragonlings to accompany the already existing two dozen that are doing a damn fine job of pursuing you last I checked, several yetis to aid the squirrels in their efforts, 19 Alarm-O-Bots that will be scattered throughout the city to keep track on your movements, a good number of pet bomblings to... keep you on your toes along with their much more subtle and far more amusing cousins, the explosive sheep. Oh, and I suppose there's also the 16 or so mechanical life-like toads modified to... well I suppose you'll find out soon enough. I was going to have some sort of beautiful, poetic conclusion to this letter that would really make you sit there in the open, outside, motionless and just think while one of my creations drew a bead on your gigantic, bald melon y'call a head, but quite frankly, I feel myself sobering up (And I know for a fact that they don't need all that much time to line up a shot) so I'll just make it nice brief, and straight to the point. I may not be the first person to try to kill you, Mr. Blyde. For that matter, I'm pretty sure I'm not the second, the third, the fifth, or the seventeenth either. But god damn it Calithos, I can guarantee you that I will be the last! Sincerely, Fizzlepocket James Rodriguez Fernando Martinez Ricardo Tweek the II. Glimmerflint from Fizzle (The following is hardly a postcard, but a letter that came in four envelopes, each of which were stamped with a wax steal that is still intact on each envelope addressed to Glimmerflint) Glimmerflint, I can't help but be just a bit... no, EXTREMELY worried about the fact that you've yet to reply once to any of the postcards I've sent out over the past week and a half. I mean, I know you like to play hard to get from time to time ESPECIALLY when I'm begging for some TLC, T&A but in such a situation, a crisis even like the one Stormwind is currently going through, I can't help but imagine that the worst has happened. I've heard reports of the scourge appearing inside the city walls through my old Crimson Hounds Brigade Radio Scanner and... can you really blame me? Why haven't you responded? Why haven't you even tried to contact me? Are you even IN Stormwind or did Miss Devi send you off to exit poll Murlocs or something?! I still haven't forgotten or forgiven her for even thinking of sending you out to perform a census on the Westfall Defias! So, I'm going to tell you this. If I don't hear from you ONCE from now until the Sunday afternoon, I'm coming to find you. !&$% the Hounds, !&$% this entire... banishment... thing. !&$% it. I ain't gonna sit around here twiddling my thumbs for another two weeks all anxious and worried about you just because DUGALD says I got to! That, and I still owe Miss Devi a visit anyway as it is... Stay safe and please write me soon! Fizzle. Fizzle from Jandisane ((A short note written on cheap paper in terrible handwriting. Also, I'm a good speller so imagine poor grammar and spelling please)) Dear Fizzle, I know it's been a while since we've spoken. You may not even remember me. But when I was travelling through Lakeshire I heard the news. I hope things are well with you. If there is anything I can bring from Stormwind (rum or someone special) let me know. You can just mail me at the Pig and Whistle, I'll check my mail there. Remember that time in the mage tower. ^.^ -Jandisane the Insane Category:Story